


so it's summer, so it's suicide

by lyricsandhearts



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricsandhearts/pseuds/lyricsandhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're in a car with a beautiful girl, and she won't tell you that she loves you, and you don't know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so it's summer, so it's suicide

**Author's Note:**

> This was heavily inspired by and based on You Are Jeff, among several other of Richard Siken's poems.

_Someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure. I'm sure you remember, I was on the phone with you, sweetheart._

1

  
You're in a car with a beautiful girl, and she won't tell you that she loves you, and you don't know why.

Maybe it's because she doesn't know it yet, or maybe it's because _you_ don't know it yet, or maybe it's because she thinks you already do. And maybe you do, and maybe you don't.

All you know is that sometimes she turns to you and smiles that lopsided, unfair smile and when she tightens her grip on the steering wheel her fingernails click together and she can't sit still and whenever she changes the channel on the radio she hums along to every song she stops on for more than a few seconds and the more you think about it the more beautiful she is, so you don't think about it.

She's driving but going nowhere, and everywhere, and you're in the passenger seat counting the trees as the car speeds by them, _one two three four five sixseveneight nine_. It's nice to know that when you pass by things like trees or flowers or people, they can be as significant or insignificant as you want them to be.

She looks at you and asks hey, are you okay, and you say of course I am why shouldn't I be. There are a lot of reasons why you shouldn't be, and she should know them all.

You want, you want, you don't know what you want but you know that she has something to do with it.

2

  
You are Jo, and a girl like Jo should never have to go through something like this.

Your life is ruined. Ruined.

In your dreams you have a white picket fence, a pretty little red brick house, a husband that might be Kendall and a few cute little children running around the meticulously upkept yard while you bake a blueberry pie.

Those are the nightmares, but you didn't realize that until _she_ came along.

The good ones (the ones that were the nightmares before and are still terrifying now) are a girl you don't know who trails her touch down your skin and leaves whispers in your hollow bones and just wants you to be happy.

It isn't fair that those are the dreams you love, the dreams you want to have, the dreams you hope come true. Not at all.

On the bright side, you finally know what you want: You want nothing to do with any of this. You want it all to go away so you can pretend you want a future that you actually dread.

You want to leave this place and this beautiful girl and never come back.

3

  
You're in a car with a beautiful girl, and she won't tell you that she loves you, but it's only because she can't stop talking about everything else and that's okay.

She talks and talks and keeps on talking, while her voice floods your ears and rings for the rest of your life. You have no idea what she's talking about but you nod and close your eyes and lean back in your seat and listen, and you listen, and you listen. You still don't know what she's saying, but god, you could listen to her talk forever.

Her words are warm and sweet and breezy and glow in the daytime like lightning bugs. They wash over you like an ocean and pierce your skin like sunlight. They swirl a hurricane in the back of your mind and they pierce your skin like _sunlight_.

 _Yes,_ you think, _they're sunlight._

You nod and close your eyes and lean back in your seat and realize why, exactly, the world couldn't function without the sun.

 __

4

  
One night you'll drink too much, show up at her door, staggering and slurring and giggling.

 _Hi_ , you'll say, and you won't notice the look she gives you, pitiful and weary and lustful.

 _Hi_ , she'll say back, _you should go home and get some rest, Jo, honey_ , because she knows how to deal with you when you're not exactly sober.

You could turn around and trudge back to your apartment, or you could tell her the truth, why you're here, everything. You'll do neither.

You'll look in her eyes and notice that they're brown. A really pretty brown. And you'll think, _Camille's eyes are brown_. And then you'll think, _You could drown in those eyes_. So you will. Your lips will meet hers, and it will be a hungry, needy, desperate moment for both of you, but you won't remember how it felt in the morning. She will.

The world will keep on spinning about twenty times too fast until you figure out what's going on, why she's pinning you to the wall by your shoulders and you wouldn't move for anything, and then it will slow down again so you can at least enjoy this while it lasts.

You'll bury your fingers in her hair and she'll bury her nails in your back and claw at you like she wants to tear the fire out from under your skin, like she wants to steal it from you and hide it under her bed, in her closet. She'll talk and talk and every word she says is sunlight, so you'll get a sunburn. And isn't that what you've wanted all along?

When it's over, she'll stop talking, roll over, cross her arms over her chest. You'll still be too drunk to care about what just happened and you'll fall asleep.

(You'll wake up in the morning and she won't be there and you'll cry until you can summon up the energy to pick up your clothes.)

5

  
It's July and it's much too hot outside to be filming, but you're filming anyway, filming for a movie you weren't sure you wanted to do in the first place but you're stuck with it now, so suck it up, sweetheart, just like everything else in your life.

On your only lunch break Kendall visits and brings the other three boys, and you love them, you do, but you don't want to talk to them right now, all you'd like is a bucket of ice to stick your head in.

But you smile and say, _hey guys, how did recording go this morning_ and _so James, your hair looks extra great today_. There's small talk for a few minutes until Logan tells you he saw Camille yesterday afternoon and looks at you pointedly.

Your heart falls out of your chest and you feel sick.

You could say, _find her for me_ , you could say, _tell her I'm sorry_ , but instead you clear your throat and say, _oh, I haven't seen her in a few days_.

Logan gulps and he knows, he knows, you can see it in his eyes (and unless you're wrong, which you aren't, the other boys know too. Or, they might not _know_ , but they know _something_ ).

And he says that he knows you haven't, and that she seemed upset, and why don't you go talk to her when you get off work? And when you look at him you can tell that he's thinking _and you might figure something out about yourself_.

Oh. Oh. Well.

They don't know most of it, do they?

They don't know that you have already had a few revelations about yourself in the past few years, they think you're still completely in the dark but they love you anyway. They love you. They really do.

6

  
You're in a car with a beautiful girl, and she won't tell you that she loves you, but she loves you.

Every breath she takes and you take rips your heart apart just a little bit more, you can't take anymore, you _can't_ , but you want it so badly. It hurts, but you want it. You need it to remind you that this is really happening, that you exist and so does she (but no matter how much proof you get of that, you'll always believe she's just a particularly fanciful figment of your overactive imagination).

The way your heart is tearing up - it feels like you've done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or driven off the edge of a cliff with the wind roaring in your ears, and you're tired.

You're in a car with a beautiful girl and she already knows that you love her, but she needs you to say it out loud. So she reaches over and brushes your hair behind your ear, and you shiver, you pull back but no, no, that's not what you want to do. You lean back in, shut your eyes, take a deep breath, so she does it again.

It's then that you realize that you drove off that cliff a long, long time ago.

She trails a hand down your arm, bites her lip, looks at you with her big brown eyes with the sunrise in the background with some old song you don't recognize playing on the radio, and surely she doesn't know what she's doing to you because if she did she wouldn't be doing it (or maybe she would, you don't know). She presses her lips to your cheek, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart finally taking root in your body. You discover something you'll never have a name for.


End file.
